


The Savitar Chronicles: Tempus Absolutum Secundus

by noxcaelum



Series: The Savitar Chronicles [4]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012), Arrowverse - Fandom, DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), Supergirl (TV 2015), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Drama, Gen, Interlude
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-25
Updated: 2018-09-25
Packaged: 2019-07-17 12:20:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16095557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noxcaelum/pseuds/noxcaelum
Summary: The second interlude.~~**COMPLETE**~~





	The Savitar Chronicles: Tempus Absolutum Secundus

**The Savitar Chronicles: Tempus Absolutum Secundus**

 

**Tempus Absolutum Secundus: Unus**  
_Central City, 2017  
Iris Lives Timeline_

Barry sat in the cortex, looking into the infirmary and the last place he had stood face-to-face with his evil future self. As he replayed the scene over and over in his mind he rubbed his chin and tried to figure out what went so wrong. The look in Savitar’s eyes when he saw Iris, when he looked around, remembering all the good they’d done here. Remembering his family. His friends. He wanted to live, that much was certain, but he’d also wanted a chance at a life. Savitar _wanted_ what they were offering, Barry was sure of it. Why did he refuse it, then?

“Hey.”

Barry looked up. “Hey. I thought… you were leaving.”

“I am.” The woman he thought of as Caitlin sat down in one of the other chairs. “But I thought I’d give you some advice first. From me to you.”

When she didn’t speak again immediately, Barry nodded to prompt her. Instead, she sighed and turned her chair to stare at one of the computer consoles.

“Do you know why I’m leaving, Barry?”

He shook his head. “Not really. Too painful, I guess.”

“That’s part of it.” She picked up a pencil, rolled it between her fingers. The wood frosted, but didn’t freeze over completely. “There’s also the part where you still think of me as Caitlin, but also can’t look at me without thinking about Killer Frost.” Her hand came up to touch her frost-white hair, but she smiled at him; just for a second but it was a smile. Her brown eyes were guarded, yet he could still see Caitlin’s kindness in them.

“I know. I’m sorry. Caitlin’s my friend and I don’t want to give her up.”

“I get that. But I need to find out who this person is before I can convince you, and especially Cisco, that she isn’t Caitlin and have you believe me.” She tilted her head. “You have a similar problem with him, you know. With Savitar.”

“I-I don’t….”

“He’s you, but he’s not you.” The frosted pencil clicked on the desk as she put it down and leaned toward him. “He can’t be you, Barry, not here. I know what you offered him, he told me. And I know why it didn’t work.” Her hand rested on his. It was cold, but not sub-zero. “He chose me as his partner for a reason only tangentially related to me being Killer Frost.”

“I don’t understand.”

“He understood I couldn’t go back to my old life, no matter what. I crossed a line when my powers overtook me and I became Killer Frost. I can stand on that line, but I can’t go back over it. He crossed a line when he survived the attack that killed the rest of the time remnants and another one when he chose to pursue becoming Savitar. He can’t go back.”

“I thought about another _Star Trek_ episode that fits.”

Barry and not-Caitlin both turned to see Cisco standing in the door to the cortex. His hands were stuffed in his pockets and he looked nervously back and forth between the two of them.

“ _The Next Generation._ Will Riker, he finds out that years ago when he was on an away mission gone wrong there was a transporter accident. It split him into two.” Cisco looked at Barry. “One version escaped the base and went on with his life as Will Riker. The other was trapped in the base because no one knew he was there and it was so damaged he couldn’t get a message out. He spent eight years surviving alone before he was rescued and then—”

Cisco cut off and looked at Barry again.

“Let me guess,” said not-Caitlin. “Then there are two of them: the one who lived Will Riker’s life and the one who didn’t. And there’s resentment.”

“I thought you hated spin-offs,” Barry said, smiling a little.

Cisco shrugged and waved him off. “Yes to the two Rikers. They’re genetically identical, with identical memories and experiences until the point of separation. And the one who lived alone on the outpost resented not being able to live the life that was, by all rights, his life. He took his middle name and went to a different ship, trying to distinguish himself from Will. It… didn’t work out. He ended up becoming… well. Becoming a criminal.”

“A villain,” Barry said.

“Debatable. But the resentment definitely drove him to do things _Will_ Riker would never do.” Cisco turned to not-Caitlin. “So if you’re not Caitlin and you’re not Killer Frost what do we call you? Gotta have something to call you.”

“Harry called me Snow. That will work just fine,” she said, then turned to Barry. “Do you understand yet?”

“I….”

“You wanted him to cross back over the line, and he can’t. You were offering….” She sighed and gestured to the empty air between them. “Intangibles. You didn’t offer him anything concrete,” she explained softly. Barry took a deep breath, his emotions all tangled up inside, not only about what she said but how she said it. White hair was Killer Frost, and Killer Frost’s quiet speech was laced with menace. Not this woman, who was not Killer Frost but also not Caitlin. “All you offered him was the chance to live exactly the same situation that made him, Barry. To live in your shadow.”

“No, that’s not—”

“But it was.” Caitlin—Snow reached out and put her hand on his. “I know you didn’t mean it to be that way, but that’s how it would have been. He has no real future here.”

Barry groaned, understanding Savitar’s questions now. Where would he live, what kind of life were they thinking he’d lead? They hadn’t thought that far ahead and admitted as much. They—he and Iris—just said they’d figure it out. Now he understood it would never be enough. Savitar needed real answers.

“What does it matter?” Cisco asked. “He’s gone. If the paradox hasn’t caught up with him yet, it will soon.”

_That’s the thing about time travel, Barry. The more you do it, the less the rules apply to you._

“Maybe,” said Barry, thinking about Savitar’s words. He raised his gaze to Snow. “Thanks.”

Snow saw that he understood, nodded, and stood. “Figure out how to offer him an actual life and if he’s somehow still out there, you stand a chance of reaching him.”

“Cait. Don’t go.” Cisco went to her and hugged her. She let him, Barry watching on with a smile. “You’re my best friend. One of. I don’t know what I’ll do without you.”

“It’s not about you,” Barry said. “It’s about her.”

“Thanks, Barry.” Snow stood back from Cisco. “That I’m still ‘Cait’ to you is the problem. I’m not her. Not only do I need to find out who I am, I need to be far enough away for a while that you can accept me as someone other than Caitlin.” She patted his cheek then walked past him. “You have my cell number. Don’t call unless you need me, but if you need me I’ll be there.”

Snow didn’t look back. She left them there with Barry trying to figure out what to do about Savitar.

“You know,” Cisco said slowly. “I… just might have an idea.”

* * *

**Tempus Absolutum Secundus: Secundi**  
_Central City, 2017  
Iris Lives Timeline_

Marlize DeVoe hummed gently as she made her husband’s meal. There were many people, especially women, who would demean her for “degrading” herself like this. Deigning to make a meal for her husband. Well, even if he weren’t confined to a wheelchair, she would do this for him because it wasn’t his wheelchair that kept him from making his own meals, it was his intellect. His wondrous, unique mind and all the beautiful scientific breakthroughs that came from it. Her husband had no time for making meals, he barely had time to eat. In fact, if not for her, he probably wouldn’t eat.

No, Marlize chose to take care of her husband because she loved him and respected his work and abilities. Other women would not and that was their choice. This was hers.

Finished, she put it all on the tray on which Clifford used to bring breakfast in bed and instead takes him lunch in his lab. That his lab happened to be in a pocket dimension where only he and she had access was at this point just another part of life. She no longer thought about it at all, let alone thought it strange. There, in that lab, her husband aspired to bring Enlightenment to humanity and she supported him with all her heart, soul, and her own considerable intellect.

“Clifford,” she said as she approached, “it’s time for lunch, my love.”

Clifford did not answer, which was normal. He often became wrapped up in calculations and following the trail of probability down its infinite pathways. When he became lost like that she had to be gentle. Marlize put the tray down and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Clifford, my love,” she murmured in his ear. “Time to eat.” He muttered something. She smiled. “Clifford. Come now. I made your favorite soup.”

“It’s impossible.”

Someone else might assume his words were in response to her; Marlize knew better. They were nonsensical as a response to her declaration of soup, so logic dictated that he spoke in regards to something else.

“What’s impossible, darling?”

“No,” was his only response. He did not hear her. “No, this cannot be.”

Only now beginning to fear something wrong, Marlize frowned. “Clifford?” Normally she didn’t like to be rough with him, but she shook his shoulder anyway. “Clifford, what is it?”

“I have followed every line of probability, seen every possible outcome. There are only two. She dies, or he dies. There are no alternatives. The casual loop does not allow for alternatives.”

He spoke of Barry Allen, Iris West, and Savitar. Her Clifford had been monitoring the situation since Allen foolishly returned from his failed foray into the alternate timeline known as Flashpoint. According to his calculations, the situation would end either in Iris West’s death, or the death of Savitar. Either scenario would provide Clifford opportunities to rise in power and bring forth the Enlightenment. The death of Iris West resulted in a half-brained attempt in six months to free Jay Garrick from the Speed Force prison. The death of Savitar would mean the attempt would free Barry Allen. Either way, Clifford would create his bus metas and become all-powerful.

Yet, it would seem something else had happened. Marlize turned to the computer screen, which always showed a readout of both what happened inside Clifford’s mind so she could follow it, and street camera footage of the Flash and his team facing down Savitar. Now, one scene kept playing on repeat. Marlize leaned forward to watch it play out again, and gasped.

Joe West prevented his daughter from killing Savitar. Joe West, who was not supposed to be there but at Infantino Street either still mourning with the Flash over his daughter’s dead body, or consoling Tracy Brand and making arrangements for the removal of H.R. Wells’ dead body.

A scenario Clifford had not foreseen.

She watched until the end and swallowed. Because what she saw meant that the future would be drastically different from anything her husband had predicted.

“Clifford.” She turned back to him and this time took both his shoulders in her hands and shook him as hard as she could. “Clifford! Wake up!”

No use. Clifford DeVoe, the Thinker, the greatest mind of all time was locked inside himself, obsessing over his miscalculation. She could not wake him.

* * *

 

**Tempus Absolutum Secundus: Tertium**  
_Waverider, Time Vortex  
Iris Lives Timeline_

“Miss Lance, _must_ you seduce every woman in history, available or not?”

Sara smirked as she headed toward her room to change out of eighteenth century French fashion. “I don’t seduce them, Professor. They seduce me.”

“Madame de Pompadour, one of the most influential women in Louis the Fifteenth’s court!” Stein sounded like he would have an aneurysm at any moment. “First Louis the Thirteenth’s queen, and now his grandson’s consort! Perhaps it isn’t all the women in history, but only the women in historical France?”

Sara shrugged. “Hmm. Maybe. I do like Paris.”

She disappeared into her room, then, leaving him sputtering out in the hall. As she slid the gown off her shoulders—Ray had already unlaced it for her, amusing her with his attempts to unlace and not look at the same time—Sara also kicked off her shoes. Not eighteenth century shoes, no way she wanted to run and fight in those. “Gideon?”

“Yes, Captain Lance?”

“Is the aberration taken care of?”

“Yes, Captain Lance. Madame de Pompadour will live long enough to patronize and inspire French artists and businessmen.”

“And King Louis for a few more years.” Smiling, Sara remembered how well Madame Jeanne inspired her. Men were fine, but women… women really took their time and knew how to please. And Jeanne Antoinette Poisson knew how to please men, women, and everyone in between, _very_ well. No wonder Louis would remain devoted to her even after taking on a new mistress. The files said he would stay by her side and nurse her as she died from tuberculosis.

Well, her intelligence, poise, and invaluable advice probably also had something to do with it. Sara only knew her for a few days, but even such a short amount of time was enough to show her that Madame Poisson was more than just a pretty face and a lithe figure. She would be an easy woman to fall in love with, if Sara were interested in love.

“Captain, I am afraid I must inform you of a new aberration in the timeline.”

Sara groaned and sat on her bed. “Please tell me it’s somewhere without corsets.”

“We are receiving a signal from ancient Egypt.”

“A signal? What kind of signal?”

“A beacon of a kind that should not be possible from that time period. It is more than an aberration, Captain. We are being called.”

* * *

 

**Tempus Absolutum Secundus: Quartum**  
_Star City, 2017  
Iris Lives Timeline_

Of all the people Oliver expected to see on his mayoral calendar today, “Caitlin Snow” was not one of them. His eyebrows came up of their own accord when she walked into his office and he saw her ice white hair. She smirked at him, just a little.

“Caitlin. Hi.” Awkward, always awkward. People looked at him, saw handsome rich boy and assumed he was never awkward. Not true, not at all. He was forever awkward in any situation that required him to be genuine and friendly. At least, when it involved people not part of his most exclusive inner circle. Which, right now consisted mostly of John, Felicity, and William. Sometimes he managed with William and then other times notsomuch. And Felicity… Felicity was still missing. He refused to think the worst. “So. What are you doing here?”

“I need some help.” She glanced pointedly at one of his office chairs.

“Of course, please sit.” He gestured for her to take the chair and he moved around to his desk. “What can I do for you?”

“How secure is your office?”

“As secure as my security team can make it.” They both understood that when he said security team, he didn’t mean the staff assigned to the mayor of Star City. “We can talk freely here about whatever you need.”

Her smile is small and frigid. “Remember Barry mentioning me being a meta-human?” Without waiting for him to respond she leaned forward and touched the lamp on his desk. It flash froze in less than a second. She leaned back in her chair. “The problem with it is that my powers aren’t just powers. They come with an extra side-helping of evil alternate personality.”

Oliver remembered from the report Felicity gave him a while back. Black Siren was not the only meta-human from Earth-2, not by a long shot. “Killer Frost. Felicity told me about her.”

“I became her.” She sighed and looked down. “Cisco managed to bring me back, but… I’m not Caitlin anymore. I’m not Killer Frost, either. I don’t know who I am.” She looked up at him, brown eyes set in a pale face framed by white hair. “And Barry and Cisco can only think of me as Caitlin. I thought of you. I know you struggle with some identity issues as well.”

Oliver closed his eyes for a moment. “I do, but nothing like that. I always know who I am.”

“Do you?” He opened his eyes to see hers flickering white with doubt. “Do you, really? Aren’t there times when you look in a mirror and don’t recognize the face looking back?”

He hesitates with the shock of having his own experience so perfectly described. “… sometimes.”

“Then what better place for me? Put me to work. In any capacity. I’ll help in your office.” She gestured to the room. “I’ll help your team, you know I have experience with that kind of work. I’ll do either or both. But help me, Oliver. Help me figure out who I am now and how to keep being her.”

Oliver sighed. Did she understand how much she was asking? Or how little he believed in his ability to help? Probably not, or she wouldn’t be here.

“If nothing else, let me stay and help you,” she said. “You never know when having a bio-engineer will come in handy.”

“All right.” He stood and offered her his hand. She took it, her own far colder than it should have been. “I believe you know the way to Felicity’s office.” Again, they both knew what he really meant. The bunker, or as Cisco insisted on calling it, the Arrow Cave. “I’ll meet you there when I’m done here and we’ll further discuss your options.”

“Thank you, Oliver.”

Oliver wasn’t quite sure what he’d gotten himself into, but Caitlin was a friend. He’d help if he could. He just hoped no one died for the trying.

* * *

 

**Tempus Absolutum Secundus: Quintus**  
_Unknown Place, Unknown Time  
Iris Lives Timeline_

Eobard wakes with a gasp and a thrill of terror races down his spine. He sits on a chair in a room with nothing in it but the chair and himself. In the blink of an eye he is up and vibrating and running at the door.

He slams into it with the force of his speed and bounces off.

Again and again he tries, not just the door but the walls, but they also repel him and refute his attempts to move through them. Eobard screams in fear and rage. No one can do this to him! Not now, not when his survival depends on continuing to move. The King of the Time Wraiths is on his tail and the only way he can exist is to outrun him.

“Eobard.”

He stops, looking around. The voice is vaguely familiar, filtered and metallic. It comes from everywhere, which means there are hidden speakers in this room.

“You. What are you doing, you know what’s after me.”

“I do indeed. Black Flash, Hunter Zolomon. Now the Speed Forces most valued hit man. He will come to a bad end but not before he catches you.”

“Then let me go!”

“Not quite yet, Eobard. I’m here to check on the progress of my plan C. It is time to come to that mutually beneficial arrangement.”

Eobard pauses. For him, a hesitation might be only a fraction of a second but right now he cannot afford even that much. Yet, he is not going anywhere until his mysterious captor and benefactor decides to let him go so he might as well think it through. “Your plan failed. Both your A and B plans. Now you need me. If Black Flash catches me now you will be out one Eobard Thawne.”

“You’re in no danger here. You can’t get out, he can’t get in. Now, tell me.”

“I… I’m having some trouble.”

“Do tell.” The menace in the voice is not diminished by the artificial filter. Eobard isn’t afraid of much anymore, but he is afraid of the Black Flash… and whoever it is behind this mysterious voice.

“I haven’t been able to track down the Spear. There’s supposed to be a device, an amulet, that tells the bearer where to find it, but it’s a bit difficult to find anything when I can’t stay still for longer than a few minutes.” His frustration with his current situation leaks from his words and from every muscle and pore in his body. Even as a speedster, running this much is exhausting. He wants to run because he wants to, not because he’s forced to run to preserve his life.

“Then take on an assistant or two.”

“What?”

“In fact, I have some suggestions. Two, in case the first doesn’t work out on his own. I think you will find both of them eager to help in exchange for a betterment of their circumstances.”

Eobard listens and agrees because he has no choice. Not if he wants to be free and not if he wants to find the Spear. Besides. It isn’t a terrible idea. He’s always wanted minions of his very own and now he will have them. If they prove a little more independent than minions should be, well. He’ll have the Spear of Destiny, won’t he?

When he does, Eobard decides he will use it to find out the identity of the person behind the voice.

**Author's Note:**

> First of all I want to apologize for the long wait between books. I hadn't intended on it, but I should have known better than to set a deadline. Depression sucks. I wish I didn't have it, but I do. 
> 
> Because of the difficulty in effectively updating my readers on my progress, I decided to revamp my blog: https://noxcaelum.dreamwidth.org/ My goal is to use this as a place to write about my progress on TSC; I might also talk about my life a bit, who knows? Especially since what is going to get in the way of finishing the Book of Legends is graduate school, yaaaaaaay. Oh, and depression. Which still sucks.
> 
> You can also find me on both the Twitters and Instagrams as noxcaelumscribe.
> 
> I want to interact with all of you more.
> 
> Beta props go to: Purpleyin, who is awesome and doesn't let me get away with anything. There are times their comments make me sputter and flail, but I always come back later and realize they were 100% right and I should always listen. You are getting a much higher quality fic because of them.


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